


The Insufferable Ally

by sixnumbers



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29366784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixnumbers/pseuds/sixnumbers
Summary: “Parades are a perfect place to assassinate someone,” she added, uncrossing her arms. “Everyone's too busy enjoying themselves to notice someone's hurt. A single shot can make everyone panic, and the shooter can make a run for it. And if Yorinobu has allies that are already working as snipers—she's in for an ordeal.”Oda hummed in agreement. “The thief makes a point. I can at least see she's smart enough for that.”--or, Takemura has his hands and plate full when he asks for V's help, and gets roped into reconsidering a few things.(this is also an AU from my other stories. It's not a completed story and will never be, I'm mainly publishing it to get it off my hard drive)
Relationships: Goro Takemura/V
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	1. Tom's Diner

Tom's Diner was a very American diner. It is an inconspicuous place, and it is close to where he had seen V before.

He took a swig of the coffee that he asked 'to go', as he was untrustworthy of the cleanliness of their mugs. He said, in their message, 2pm.

A different, cleaner woman came through the door on the dot. A barely healed scar marred her face, matching with the scar over her eye on the other side. They seemed to rise in a near-crimson over her dark skin. Her brightly colored hair was gone, replaced with black braids, the locks falling just to her neck. A dark t-shirt with a sheer jacket and fitted dark jeans, one gun on her thigh and another holstered to her belt. An interesting choice, he had to admit.

“Takemura,” she said, sitting down and looking untrustworthy of him. She had an accent, though he didn't know what kind. “What d'ya want?”

“You do not look so bad,” he said flatly. “There, in the car, I doubted you'd survive.”

“I doubted it, too. Thought you'd just off me for good.” V smiled softly, and Goro noticed her sharp looking teeth, her dark lipstick. He wanted to stop noticing it, but he found it difficult. She was a presence. “Why'd you help me, anyway?”

“I needed you to live. That has not changed.”

“Right. Okay,” and he could see face switch from inquiry to irritation. “Like I said...what d'ya want?”

“To begin, you must tell me where to find Evelyn Parker.”

“Evelyn? What's she to you?”

“Her and Yorinobu--”

“Oh, I get it. They were together. That's why you're draggin' my barely alive ass into this. To see if she has dirt on him?”

“Yes,” he agreed.

V shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I've been trying to find her, too. She said she'd help me get rid of the chip.”

“I would not count on that. She's likely gone—very far away.”

“Of course,” and V chuckled bitterly, looking to the floor next to Goro. “Why do you think so?”

“I tried to locate her, but had no success. I suspect she covered her tracks.”

“Or, she's dead.” Her face switched to unease.

“Why do you think that?”

“People just don't—disappear. Not when everything has a lead back to it, everything has a line. Banks, transactions, pawn shops, borders, customs. You can disappear for people, but you can't disappear with your resources. Regardless of how good of a netrunner you are. Not when you're being hunted by the world's biggest corp.”

Goro steepled his hands together. “You are smarter than I presumed.”

“When I'm not swimmin' in trash, I'm a quick study,” she added nonchalantly. “You know what else I know?”

“What?”

V slipped closer to him over the table. Her presence was threatening, even though he knew how easily she could be dispatched. Her eyes are—interesting. The way she smiled, more so. “You're on your ass with Arasaka too. But you're a man of—hm. Loyalty? And you won't let it go until you've fixed it.” She slipped back to her original point, still smiling. “You want revenge.”

“Yes.”

“So you need my help. Is this gonna get gory?"

“No, _no_ ,” he emphasized. “I have allies prepared to bring Yorinobu to his knees. All I need is proof.”

“And you think they'll trust me?” V barked out a laugh.

“I have nothing better now. I know no one here.”

“So we'll just waltz in and say Yorinobu did it?”

“We will have a meeting with reasonable people in a neutral location. Certain—procedures will be used to establish the truth.”

V continued to look at him skeptically, then stood up. “Y'know, I'm gonna go, this seems like--”

Goro put a hand toward her shoulder, attempting to keep her. “V, please. I need your help.”

Before his touch could connect, she grabbed his wrist, putting it in a grip. It would have felt threatening if he wasn't outfitted with more metal than bone, but V didn't increase pressure.“Don't fuckin' touch me,” she said bitterly. “Fine.” And she tossed away his hand and sat back down, now obviously angry. “So we have a lie detector test. What is this, daytime TV? Or are you gonna torture it out of me?”

“So grim,” Goro commented, taking a swig of his coffee. “It is either this or you die.”

“I'm a dead woman anyway," the woman said flatly. "Have been since I jammed this Relic in my head. Death just waitin' around the corner in this city, anyway.”

“Arasaka may be able to save you. The chip—technology made by them. Technology only they know. It's all about getting the right people on your side. Politics.”

“You mean Anders Hellman.”

“You know his name? How?”

“Prep for that cursed heist. The relic is his baby.”

“Untrue. He was a pawn. I was thinking of someone much more powerful. Besides, Anders Hellman escaped Arasaka, betrayed them.”

“That's what happens when you save your own skin before anybody else's,” V said nonchalantly.

Goro turned to the TV, after hearing Hanako's voice. She and Yorinobu were only on TV for a minute, before the channel changed.

“Lemme guess. You want _her_ help?”

“Of course.”

V laughed again, gathering some stares from other patrons. “Y'know what. Fine. I'll do it.”

“You will...just like that?”

“I think we should at least try to find some of 'em.” She leaned forward, and Goro felt she was too close. "Parker, Hellman, won't hurt to give a second scan. Maybe you just need fresh optics on this.”

“I need time to plan--”

“Okay. Take as much time as you want,” she said with a bitter smile. “Need, whatever. You know where to find me. I'll work with what I've got for now.”

“You are not letting me finish.”

“What _else_ do you have to say, then?” V's voice was a sharp whisper.

“I tried looking for Hellman, and all points lead back to the club Afterlife. I was quickly dismissed by the 'Queen of Fixers' there, Rogue.”

“You probably talked to her all wrong,” and V crossed her arms. Staring at her felt more and more like a hornet's nest, buzzing with malice. “You mentioned you're a wanted man. No one wants to get mixed up with that, especially for a big name.”

“I would presume so.”

“Look, maybe she just needs a nice chat with a nice lady. Namely, me.”

Goro smirked. “You can try. The woman is choosy, expensive, and rude.”

“Then we're a match made in heaven. We done here?”

“Yes. I cannot stay here any longer.” Goro chugged the last of his coffee, which wasn't much at all. “I must see some friends, call in some favors.”

“Great,” and V stood up, brushing herself off and looking down at him. Confusion, hatred, and something else, but she seemed intentionally hard to read. “Let me know how that goes.”

Goro got up to leave. “If by some miracle you find Hellman, please notify me. He and I have unfinished business.”

“Of course. I'd love to see you beat his ass.”

Goro raised an eyebrow. “Beat...?”

“Like, attack him. Throw some punches,” and V chuckled again, smile still sharp.

“Oh. Yes, you can call it that.”

“Great. See ya,” and as quickly as she spoke, she left.


	2. The Hotel Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takemura continues to grow confused.

_This is V. Found our pal Hellman. Coordinates incoming. See ya soon :)_

Goro followed the trail V left, which led him to a dingy motel in the middle of nowhere. The door was open when he tried the handle, walking into V and Hellman. V was dressed in all black, hair in a single, jet black braid. Her appeal, both dangerous and—beautiful? The way that utterly confused him. Maybe it was the healing scar, or the blood red lipstick. Goro would presume it was lipstick, not _actual_ blood, for his peace of mind.

“Takemura,” she said with a soft smile. “Good to see ya.”

“ _Takemura_?” Hellman interrupted. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“He's got some questions of his own. What kind, I've got no idea. If you play nice, he may even help you.” V looked up at him with the same venom she usually did. “I'm almost done.” And then she looked back at Hellman, somehow with _more_ of it. “The blueprints?”

Hellman clearly was out of his element. He likely thought she was someone's lackey. He wasn't bruised or pistol whipped, so she was likely showing a great deal of restraint. At least, Goro presumed that was the case.

The blond man took his data chip and handed it to V, her eyes going blank for a moment as she processed the information. Hellman looked over at him, defeated. Goro could only smirk in response.

When V came back, she turned to Goro. “What are you gonna do with him?”

“I am not sure yet.”

V smiled. “Impulsive. Want an extra pair of hands?”

“No. This is personal.”

“Fair enough,” V shrugged, standing up.

Hellman seemed more shocked by her height, and Goro took a closer look at her clothes. Heavy boots, black jeans that seemed to be just tight enough to move in and not tear, a torn shirt and bomber jacket. Stylish, if not a bit awkward.

“V, thank you,” Goro began, smiling just a bit. “I will remember this.”

“You're welcome. See you around.”

She took her time walking out as he monologued at Hellman. He presumed she enjoyed it.


	3. The Pier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takemura is close to losing it.

V stuck out like a sore thumb even in the darkness. Her silhouette was unique, hair braid sticking out in her shadow.

“Good to see you, V.”

She leaned against the railing to face him. She was like a big cat, surveying her prey. His thoughts seemed to drop out of his head for a moment, until she spoke.

“Good to see you too, Takemura. Why are we meetin' here?” V asked.

“It is appropriate for such a secret meeting.”

“...you look like dog shit,” she said sadly. “What happened?”

“You see a man robbed of all of his money, implants, and dignity. Look well.”

“I don't want to relish in _your_ pain. That's not really fun for me. Where are you staying?”

“I am fine.”

“Don't lie to me,” she said, with uncharacteristic concern. “I could help you find somewhere safe to stay.”

“I--”

“No arguing,” she said with finality. “We'll work it out later.”

Goro smiled, just a bit. “Now it is I who asks—why are you helping me?”

“I know you think I'm some kinda mean brute, but I have a heart. Don't like to see allies in such straits.”

“We are allies?”

“We're going toward the same goal.”

“Are we? Who's your true target?”

“Haven't figured that out yet. But it's not gonna be you, if that's what you're askin'. Is your friend comin' soon?”

“Oda? Yes, he should be here soon.”

“Who _is_ he?”

“He's Hanako-sama's bodyguard.”

V sighed heavily. “Probably should have told me that sooner, yeah? What if he sells us out?”

“He will not do that. He is a man of honor.”

“I don't want to trust you with that, but you make it hard not to.”

“How so?”

V chuckled darkly. “You just do.”

A car pulled up, shining a bright light at them both for a few moments. V covered her eyes out of instinct, and he took a look over her. Black trenchcoat, seeming to wear nothing on top under it. Her dark jeans are torn at the knees, with one poorly patched. And boots that went up to her knees, but more—ladylike. An unusual change of pace, but he finds the curve of her calves and thighs—interesting.

Takemura turned to the now stopped car, noticing Oda got out. Smartly, V said nothing.

Oda stood far enough away from them. “So this is her. Your thief.”

“She is my witness, V.”

Goro looked over at her, expecting her to speak.

“Good evenin',” she said flatly.

“I have been told you know things.”

“I do,” V said, crossing her arms. “But you're not gonna like what I have to say. Can you guarantee I'll be safe?”

“V,” Goro said softly. “you can trust Oda.”

She took a deep breath in, and then spoke. “I was there at Konpeki Plaza, behind the LED display. It seemed to be just another father-son argument. Until Yorinobu lunged at Saburo and--”

“Silence,” the other man ordered. “Not one word more. You will bring death to your door.”

V pressed her lips on top of each other to hold her tongue. Goro instinctively stepped in front of her. She was his last hope for—anything, he realized. His own life, Arasaka-sama to be avenged—everything he knew. He wouldn't let Oda hurt her.

“But it is the truth,” Goro insisted. “Hanako-sama must hear this!”

“My one concern is to keep her safe in this city forgotten by the gods.”

Goro paced in front of V, who was still smartly silent. “Is Hanako-sama in danger?”

“Now? No. Yet during the parade to honor Arasaka-sama? Most certainly.”

“I bring you this witness to his murder, and you dare worry about a silly parade? Fool!”

“Takemura. Oda has a point,” V said calmly.

Goro whipped back at her.“What?”

“Parades are a perfect place to assassinate someone,” she added, uncrossing her arms. “Everyone's too busy enjoying themselves to notice someone's hurt. A single shot can make everyone panic, and the shooter can make a run for it. And if Yorinobu has allies that are already working as snipers—she's in for an ordeal.”

Oda hummed in agreement. “The thief makes a point. I can at least see she's smart enough for that.”

V shifted from one leg to another, remaining silent instead of responding to the compliment. She likely had no interested in testing her luck against a man who could kill them both and be seen as a true heroic son of Japan.

Oda grimaced. “But, I have not yet failed in my duties, as you have--”, his gaze now directed at Goro. “However, I do regret coming here to meet you.”

“Takemura,” V said softly, “This isn't going anywhere. Let's go.”

Goro wasn't going to just 'let go' of this. Oda knew he wouldn't bring V unless it was important. His own protege now full of distrust for his senior. Why was it so difficult to believe that a rebellious son would do such a crime against his father? “Will you help us, Oda?”

“I will not. I will let you leave here, this city, unharmed, this time. Next time, I will not show the same mercy.”

With that, Oda turned around and went back into his car. As he drove off, Goro felt total despair. It was his last real thread back to Hanako, and it was snipped in half.

“I'm sorry that didn't go well,” V said with a sigh. Her voice showed—pity? Hurt? Sadness. Not for herself, but for him. “What now?”

In his head, Goro connected the dots. The parade was just as V said, a good distraction. Any anomalies could be seen as just part of the show. If he had help, he could get to Hanako. He turned to V, who was half shrouded in darkness again. “Do you not see? The parade—it is a chance to get to Hanako-sama--”

Even though he could only see some of her face in the dim light, he could tell she was not amused by the assumption. “That's a death wish and you know it, Takemura."

“I thought you were fond of those,” he said nonchalantly.

“Not like this.” She walked closer to him, eyes still full of pity as she stopped too close, but also too far from him. “That's just sticking your hand in the hornet's nest. You expect pure pain and you get it. There's no back and forth, no winning, no survival instinct. No escape route.”

Goro processed those words for a moment. He wondered if the hornets here were like the Japanese ones. “Are you typically this—poetic?”

V smiled. “I do like to read in my spare time. Not all wetwork.”

Goro chuckled dryly.

“A chuckle. I'll be damned.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You're painfully serious. Wondered if you even knew how to laugh.”

“It once paid me to be serious. Being entrusted with another's life—it was what I was trained to do.”

“Well,” V huffed. “Nothin's payin' you now. And since I'm the one with the eddies, how about I get you a drink?”

“I—could use a drink. The parade, however--”

V sighed with irritation, as if she knew he wouldn't let this go. “Alright. What's the next steps?”

Goro perked up, hopeful to work out a plan with her. With V's expertise of the city, they may have a chance. “We need a precise map of Japantown. Do you know anyone who may have that information?”

V didn't hesitate for an answer, smirking. “Wakako Okada. She runs a pachinko parlor on Jig-Jig Street. She'll be willing to help me.”

“Then we'll go now. Come with me?”

“Of course,” she said softly. “She wouldn't let ya waltz in by yourself.”


	4. Jig-Jig Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takemura tries.

Goro got in the car first, and V joined him in the passenger seat. She was absolutely _too_ close now. She smelled a lot better than their original meeting. It was now something fragrant, like vanilla and fruit. It was oddly appetizing. He resolved that he was just hungry—and not for the younger woman next to him.

“Jig-Jig Street,” he muttered as they drove off. “What sort of name is that?”

“Beats me.”

“The 'beat' again. Are you saying it hurts you?”

“No,” V said, shaking her head. “It's just an expression. Just sayin' I don't have any idea why it's called that.”

“I see.”

The ride is silent for a few moments, before V spoke again. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Why the sudden concern?”

“You look rough and just got told your intel was worthless. I don't think most people could take that, especially not a man like you.”

He smiled, just slightly. “And what kind of man am I?”

“From what I gathered?” V shifted in her seat. Goro noticed her hands moving out of the corner of his vision, hearing her nails tap on something gently. “Hmm. Restrained, meticulous, well trained. Someone's who used to having their opinion valued, even to a small degree.”

Goro simply hummed in thought. “Any other thoughts?”

“You like to drink when you get a chance. You can cut loose but haven't for a long while. And—you might be a little more popular around here if you wore your hair down. Women love that mysterious man shit.”

“... _what_?”

V laughed, darting her eyes his way. An honest laugh, as if she told a joke.

“You mock me.”

“I didn't intend to come off that way.”

“What way did you intend?”

“Flirtatious,” and Goro could almost hear her smile.

He shook his head. Was she going to be like this the whole time? Hot and cold, if he remembered correctly.“You are—”

“I'm on your good side. Otherwise you'd slap me like you did when my shambling corpse asked for help.”

“I did not know you were closer to friend than foe, at the time.”

“You trusted me to shoot at those psychos. You weren't a little worried I'd shoot you first?”

“Then you would not have anyone to help you.”

“Isn't that what you told me? You were out of options. I was the last one.”

“We are—how is it? On the same page.”

“And we're getting closer to the end of our story, it seems.”

“Yes. One can only hope.”

“I know I am,” she said wistfully.

“Is there no optimism for your condition?”

“No. Vik—the doctor you brought me to—said I wouldn't have too long. Maybe a few months, if I'm lucky. Pain's getting worse. At least Johnny keeps me company. Can't complain too much with a rockstar terrorist wanting to party with ya every night, I guess.”

Goro turned his eyes for a moment toward her. For a moment, V seemed—fragile. Her trenchcoat had a few buttons undone, exposing the loose camisole underneath it. He cannot remember if he had noticed the silver lines in her chest, just under her clavicles, but they caught each passing light.

He turned his eyes back to the road. He felt ill at ease, and unsure to comfort her or stay silent.

“V, I--”

“We're here, Takemura.”

Goro finally saw the Jig-Jig Street sign. It was gaudier than any piece of LED he had seen even in the worst parts of Tokyo. He pulled up the empty road and parked on the curb, turning off the engine and getting out before V could. He found himself walking briskly as he could, feeling the limits of his deactivated chest and spine supports.

“Hey, hold up!”

He did not wish to stay long. He walked between the masses of people, some gaudily dressed, others seemingly trying to hide. It was an unusual place.

V quickly outpaced him, using her long legs to her advantage. He asked himself when he realized her legs were long. He resolved that it was because of her height that he made that assumption.

He now followed her lead, as she moved through the crowd effortlessly, her single braid bobbing up and down the middle of her shoulders. Her height and black jacket made her easy to follow. She turned and moved effortlessly, turning back a few times to see if he was still with her. Her profile was—soft. She was—and he refused to think about it more. An odd woman, he assured himself.

V took another turn and quickly went through an open door. Goro noted the clanging and ringing of a pachinko parlor, having been dragged to many in his military days. Through the pachinko parlor, that reeked of smoke, they went to the back office. V finally stopped and Goro could catch up to her, sighing.

A large man stood at the beaded curtain in front of them, but V was cheerful. “Wakako here?”, she asked.

“She's on a call, but you can go in,” the man said, pulling back the beaded curtain. “Good to see ya, V.”

“Thanks. Friend's comin' with me, we've got business.”

“Alright. Keep an eye on him,” the man said as Goro ducked into the room with her.

Wakako was on the phone, but Goro was only able to parse out 'Rogue', 'Claws' and 'jumped'. He wondered briefly what was going on, but the call was cut short by their interruption.

“V,” Wakako said with a smile. “So nice to see you. And your charming friend is--?”

Imani looked at him, and he bowed. “I'm Takemuro Goro. The honor is mine, Okada-san.” It was nice to speak Japanese, for a change. He spoke English only to avoid needing V to process his words via translation.

“Ah! A true gentleman.”

“He absolutely is,” V said, smirking a bit.

The compliment took him by surprise, yet again. Was she intentionally riling him up?

“Too bad he's being hunted by Arasaka's soldiers,” Wakako retorted. “And you, V, bring him to my door.”

Goro turned to V, who looked like she had several regrets.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't notify the proper 'authorities' right away,” the woman continued.

“You'd have already called if that was the case,” V said apologetically. She was being 'nice', as she put it. “We just need some help, and we'll disappear again.”

Okada frowned, but sighed, shaking her head. “Be glad I am not eager to get my favorite errand girl killed. What is it?”

“The parade that's comin' through here. Can you give us intel on it?”

“Why are you asking me? Did Dex not answer his phone?”

V shook her head. “You know everybody's business. You know he's dead. Knocked off by some Arasaka goon.”

Wakako smirked.

“Okada-san,” Goro spoke up, “our intentions are honorable. We just need information. It is a matter of life or death.”

Wakako went into her desk, pulling something out concealed in her hands. She dropped it on the counter, and Goro realized it was a shard.

“Everything's on there.”

“Thank you, Wakako. How much do I owe you,” V said with relief.

“It's free. My gift to you.”

“Okada-san,” Goro spoke up again, “What is free often proves most costly.”

Wakako looked over at Goro. She seemed tired of the formalities. “Gonna take it, or not?”

V hesitated slightly, but ultimately placed the shard into her head. Wakako ran everything down as V looked through the plans.

Once Wakako finished, V removed the shard, placing it in her pocket.

“Thank you again, Wakako. If I make it back from this, I'll do anything ya ask.”

“Anything? I might make you regret that.” Wakako smiled. “Goodnight, V and friend.”

Takemura moved before V could even turn around, and walked out of the parlor as quickly as he could.

The fresher air of the street was a relief. He walked out to one of the subway entrances, resting on the railing around the stairwell. V quickly arrived next to him, looking entirely at ease.

“A delightful, mature woman,” Goro said with a soft smile. The exact sort of woman who would run a pachinko parlor—business focused, a dry wit, but can see a good angle in everything.

“That's Okada-san,” V said with a shrug. Then, her face switched to a smile. “So, you're Goro.”

“That is my first name.”

“Can I call you it?”

Goro had pinned himself into this, he realized too late. Americans rarely referred to others as something other than their first names. It would be fine for her to do this—but only her. “Yes, you may." But he responded with a smile of his own. "If I can call you by yours.”

“It's Imani.”

“Imani...? That does not have a V in it.”

“It's a useless story, I can promise you that. But Goro?” And he did not like how his body reacted to her low voice, somewhat—what was the word? Sultry. “I feel like I learned a big secret. I like it.”

She was doing this on purpose. He would refuse to be weak to her.

“Let us get back to the matter at hand,” he said flatly. “This information—it could be just what we need. I will stay here for some time and call some associates. It is best to plan alone, for now.”

“Well. I can at least get you that drink we talked about. And the place to stay.”

“Fine,” he said, “If you insist.”

“And I do,” and he noticed her mouth again, lips turned into a half-smile. “Keep a dead woman company for a while.” Imani smiled fully now, shaking her head with a sigh. “You're a real stick in the mud.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You're stuck in your ways. When's the last time you cut loose?”

“Protecting Arasaka-sama was a day long job. I would not rest until he rested, and if he drank, I remained sober.”

“And you didn't take any off-days?”

“Infrequently. So—I would say it has been many months since I have 'cut loose'.”

“Then what do you have to lose from loosening up now, since you have nothin' to protect?”

“Everything.”

V shifted, her eyebrows furrowing in the middle. “You're already at the bottom of your grave. You could end up buried soon enough. Let's drink some bourbon and leave this revenge business aside. For tonight.”

“Any bar here would call Arasaka, just as Wakako warned.”

“This is going to sound more seductive than I intend it,” and Goro immediately felt panic, but wanted her to finish, “but you could come by my place? I've got a variety of poison to drink.”

Goro thought over how bad this could go. But V—Imani, seeing her name clearly in katakana--was his only ally at this time. He—trusted her.

So he relented. “Alright. You will need to direct me.”


	5. V's Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takemura indulges.

Imani's apartment was nothing elegant, but it expressed her character perfectly. Photos and stickers lined the walls along with post it notes and magnets. A single cactus sat by the window, looking decidedly healthy. On her kitchen counter sat a few different bottles, ones he noted were whiskeys he had seen before. Her bed was outfitted with green sheets, and looked fantastically comfortable in comparison to the backseat of a car. The couch was outfitted with red cushions, a green guitar sitting in the crook of a seat, and on the living room table sat a few magazines and a tablet.

Imani took off her shoes and socks, leaving her barefoot before she put on a pair of fuzzy slippers, adorned with baby chickens. Goro followed, leaving him in his dress socks.

“I have an extra pair of slippers, if you'd like 'em.”

“I am fine.”

“Alright,” she said with a shrug. She hung up her trenchcoat by the door, and the camisole rode up just slightly. He didn't realize he had taken a full glance at her bared skin, just over her behind. It looked smooth, as if someone had pressed their thumbs into fresh clay. He noticed too much, the curve of her hips as they moved into her legs, her strong thighs and pert backside.

She paid no attention to him as she walked to her kitchen counter, surveying her bottles. “Well, I have several boozes to choose from. I've got whiskey, bourbon, baijiu, sake, and tequila.” She sighed. “Please don't choose tequila.”

He wondered why she would buy alcohol she disliked, but decided against asking further. “Bourbon is fine.”

“Good choice. I had a friend who bought me this. Housewarmin' present."

“Had—what happened to him? Has he passed?”

“Yeah,” she said in barely a voice. She thumbed the bottle, as if it she could see her friend in it, before she set it back down. She quietly opened her cabinets, pulling out two glasses.

“Are you alright, Imani?”

Imani smiled sadly at him, and she looked fragile all over again. “Not really, but—I'll say yes, for both our sakes.”

“Would you feel comfortable—talking about your friend?”

Her face brightened, but was still sad. “Anytime I can talk about Jack is a good time. His mom said that it's tradition—if you keep a person's name alive, they'll never truly die. So, sure.”

“His name was Jack?”

“Jackie Welles,” she said, smiling softly. “We met on a job, went sideways---partially my fault. Used to be a nomad, out there in the wastes. The border guards flagged me as a newbie, I guess, clanless and friendless. He drove, I shot. Got this scar,” and she extended her bare arm, lightly dusted with fine black hair. The scar was older than the one on her skull, telltale signs of a machine stitch.

“But you got out alive,” and Goro made his way to her sunken in living room. He sat and noted the minor stiffness of the cushions. It remind him of Saburo's couches.

“Yup,” Imani added, not turning around. Goro noted the way her hair fell as she moved to pick up the bourbon bottle, but not uncapping it. “He cussed me out somethin' fierce after. Thought I was as good as dead. But then he told me, in that _voice_ of his,” her voice suddenly tinged with want, “'You're alright, V.'”

She shook her head, and he heard her finally unscrewing the bottle. “He died doin' the heist to get this damn chip for Dex. I told him, 'Jack, I'm a scavenger, not much a thief. I'm fine doin' the small stuff.' I was just getting up the ranks. Told him this wouldn't go well.”

“And he was—not agreeable.”

Goro could hear Imani pouring carefully, as if she wasn't going to waste a single drop. “But I caved in. If I would've told him, 'suck it up, find somebody else,', he'd be alive.”

“You should not blame yourself,” Goro said firmly. “You seemed to be the sensible one, and he sought aspirations that you knew you couldn't risk.”

“I guess you could say that. Jack had ambitions, not like me.” Imani turned around with their glasses in hand and walked toward him. “Wakin' up every day was a big milestone for me,” and she carefully stepped down, looking at her feet, into the couch area. “Seen people get cooked by the heat, shot in the face, lost in a sandstorm, lose their lives in a race. Breathin' another minute is a miracle to me."

Imani handed Goro his glass, and he took it out of her hands. It was the first time he noticed her gun grip installations, as well as her red nailpolish.

“Wouldn't call myself 'sensible',” she continued. “We both had our moments of stubbornness. He was always pushin' me to be better. I--”, and she caught her own tongue, shaking her head again. “I'm a bad luck charm. Whole life feels like a curse. Not sure who I pissed off, but I did a _damn_ good job. Parents, siblings, friends, lovers—everybody leaves me or dies stayin'.”

“Do you have no friends, no allies now?”

“I do.” Imani finally sat down, letting her hands rest in her lap with her glass. Too close again, close enough to touch her—he blinked rapidly to get the thought out of his head. “But there's a pit in my heart that tells me to count my days. But now I really can. Sold a lot of my big stuff. Just me, my guitar Nina, and Lady Prickles now in here.”

“Lady...Prickles...?”

“My saguaro over there,” and she gestured to the cactus with her head. “But you're right. I've got Misty...Viktor...Mama Lupe. Judy. Panam. My friends. I told them all my plans.”

“Your plans?”

“When I finally go. When I get to meet whatever set this curse on me and fight it.”

Goro couldn't help but smile. “You are a—what is it?”

“Dumbass?”

“No,” he disagreed, but he laughed as he shook his head. “A hot head.”

“Oh, yeah. Thought you'd figure that out by now.”

“I had gathered, but...this is confirmation. Fighting a deity.”

“Might as well. I've got nothin' else goin' on.”

Goro looked down at her slippered feet, but found himself mindlessly going up her body. Her legs _were_ very long. Her arms, dotted with small tattoos and scars. The cyberware that peeked from under her skin. Imani's smile was sad, eyes unfocused and looking at the table. He wanted to touch her, desperately, hold her and comfort her. The feeling nearly drowned him.

“Shall we drink,” Goro finally said.

“Yes. I'm sorry...just getting nostalgic. I'm being an awful host, aren't I? Telling you all about my dead friends...including future dead me.”

“It's quite alright. I have some dead friends, as well.”

“You can tell me about them, if you'd like. No pressure.” Imani laughed. “If only Jack could see me now. I guess he finally rubbed off on me. I'm a big, open book, just like he used to be.”

“My stories...have far less kind ends. We mourned our friends. It has been a long, long time since I visited their graves. Their spirits must look at me unkindly. Just as unkindly as the entity that cursed you did.”

“I doubt that.”

“Why do you say so?”

“You're still here. You may be down and out, but you're living. You don't have a timebomb in your head.”

“That is true.” Goro raised his glass, and Imani raised hers in kind. “To our friends.”

“To our friends,” she said softly, smiling earnestly. He noted her crooked teeth, for the first time. The scar on her skull finally settling, parts of it raised. The soft brown of her optic implants, full eyelashes curled slightly. Her crimson-stained lips. Her broad cheekbones and slightly upturned nose.

Imani clinked her glass to his, and they both drank. The bourbon was rich, with just enough bite behind it. For a moment, he forgot any malice he may have had, eyes closed and simply enjoying the moment. Imani sighed gently as she finished her drink, a noise he found—interesting.

When Goro came back to the real world, Imani had put her empty glass on the table.

“Do you wanna play a game or somethin'? I've got some quick and easy ones.”

“No. I would prefer—to continue talking. I have never been very good at games.”

Imani pouted. “I doubt that.”

“I completed a jigsaw puzzle once. But since I was young, my life was training. Focus. My only solace became novels. All of our games were of war and battle.”

“You were trained to be a bodyguard...that young?”

“Yes. Corporation patrols would come to by the canals of Chiba-11, where boys like me would wash their clothes. Some would pick the cleanest looking boys to recruit. From there, were were brought into training, honed into warriors.”

“Samurai for your benefactors. That's intense.”

“It was the only way to escape poverty.”

“Were you able to see your parents again?”

“No.”

Imani frowned. “That seems cruel.”

“This world is quite cruel, to many. Do you agree?”

“Yes. I know that first hand. I've seen terrible things. Sometimes, I'm the one doin' 'em.”

“How do you mitigate that feeling?”

Imani pressed her lips together again, thinking. “By telling myself that the people I hurt are just as bad as me.”

“Practical,” he agreed, nodding. His eyes fell around her neck again, her elegant hand--

“Goro, do you _have_ to keep lookin' at me like that?”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like I'm a slice of pie you wanna eat.”

He thought he was being more careful.

“You are not a foodstuff," he affirmed.

“So you're not thinkin' about how my fillin' might taste,” she said in _that voice_ again. It seemed to pierce his chest, and he mentally ran away from it. “You don't have to fall on your sword about this,” she continued. “Proverbially, I mean. I don't think lookin' at me is such a grave sin.”

“There are simply—many things about you I am just now noticing.”

“I mean. This is my house...? You usually see me workin'. This is off-time me. In my cuddly slippers, drinkin' bourbon, hopin' I'll wake up tomorrow.”

“When you are here, without company, what do you do?”

Imani laughed, putting her hand over her heart.

“What is so funny?”

“You're killin' me, Takemura,” Imani said with a laugh. “I know you don't mean to be funny. But...think back about those words. You asked a woman, who you just checked out, what she does when she's alone.”

Goro took a minute. It did look bad. But it wasn't his intent. “You are the pervert here, Imani.”

She rolled her eyes. “I just take what I'm given”, she said with a wink. “Let me take your glass?”

“Yes, but I believe I am done drinking for the night. We should get some sleep.” Goro stood up. “I will leave you for now.”

“You don't have to go,” Imani added, looking up at him. “You could sleep on the couch, if ya want. Or with me,” and she smirked again. The offer was deeply tempting.

“I am a light sleeper. Even the presence of others keeps me awake.” He would remain resolute. Sleeping with a woman he was meant to be helping—seemed to be improper.

“That makes sense. You are a bodyguard and all.” Imani finally stood, and he once again had to take in how tall she was. She walked over to the door, Goro taking a moment before following behind her.

“You better not be lookin' at anything back there,” she said in a joking tone.

“You embarrass me.”

“You started that on your own.” She chuckled again. “Oh! And I didn't forget that you've been sleeping in that jalopy you got--”

“I--”

Imani tutted at him, as if he were an insolent child. She turned back to her kitchen, opening a cabinet. When she returned, she had a data chip in her hands.

“Not sure how much is on it, it's some of my emergency funds. Don't spend it at Clouds.”

“I will presume that is somewhere salacious.”

“Oh, very,” she said with a smirk. “But there's a hotel that pays by the night a few miles away. I'll send you the coordinates, since you won't stay with me.”

“Imani--”

“Hush. I know what it's like to sleep in your car. Lay down fully in that bed for me...and take a cold shower,” her tone implying flirtatiousness yet again. “Let me know how all the recon goes, once you have it.”

Goro smiled, no longer wishing to fight. “Of course. Goodnight, V—Imani. Stay safe.”

“You too, Goro,” she said, undeniably sweet in tone. The way his name rolled off—he quelled the thought as he slipped back into his shoes.

“I will—what is the term? Return in one piece.”

“Hope so. The pieces look very good together. Not sure they'd be as nice apart.”

With a final smirk, Imani opened the door. The hallway was stuffy as Goro walked out, and the door quickly closed behind him. He had the vaguest feeling that he should have stayed longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few notes here, actually:
> 
> \- in a fic I have *not* published, Jackie gets Imani expensive bourbon as a housewarming present. It was also the day they made it official, but y'know, that's kinda obvious huh


	6. Chapter 6

There were more eurodollars on the chip than Imani likely presumed. He admitted, it was nice to take a proper shower. However, she did not advise clearly that the hotel was a 'love hotel'. At least, they had ample hot water, plenty of soap and shampoo, and he could put in earplugs to drown out the sounds of lovers around him. He wondered if Imani had ever been there before, and who with. Was it her dead friend—lover? Or maybe someone new? One of the many 'joytoys' Night City had?

Goro resolved to stop questioning the sexual habits of his colleague and sleep.

Through the next few days, he did his reconnaissance and conjured a plan. Imani had not reached out, likely busy following her own threads and other concerns. She did, after all, have a life. Friends. Something Goro began to realize he was sorely lacking.

Goro called her a few days later, gave her precise instructions on how to meet him. She followed them to a T, but she was as much as an obvious attention magnet as usual. Sturdy ankle boots, torn jeans, tank top and motorcycle jacket. Her sports bra peeked out from the tank top, cyberware as clear as day. It felt painfully practical, but effortless.

She looked--

“Goro. Good to see ya.”

“V. It is good to see you as well. As well as see you're still alive.”

“I'm surprised, myself,” she said with a half smile. “So, what d'ya find?”

Imani listened to Goro's plan quietly at first, but stopped him as soon as he mentioned getting into Hanako's float.

“Goro.”

“Yes?”

“You realize this is _absolutely_ batshit.”

“But it can work,” he assured. “I have the intel that says it can.”

Imani looked away from him, incredulous. Her hands moved onto her hips, sighing. “Too many variables have to go right. Too many variables is how I got Jack killed.”

“Your friend did not die because of _your_ mistakes.”

“I sure helped. Like I'm helping you. If you do this—it will be a suicide mission.” Imani let sadness reflect clearly on her face. “Not quite as messy as some, but you'll be alone, bleeding out, in this 'city forgotten by the gods'. Is that dignified?

“I will be doing it to avenge Arasaka-sama.”

“He would want himself avenged, I guess.” Imani shoved her hands into her pockets. “But at what costs? All of this? What if Oda kills you? What if _Hanako_ kills you?”

Goro paused. “I have to solve his murder. Before a war begins. Don't you see that--”

“Y'know, been doin' the most dangerous thing in this world—thinkin'.”

“And what conclusion did you come to?”

“That this—is ridiculous. People are dying on these very streets. The corp wars were bloody business. Yorinobu is likely full of hot air when he goes on and on about strength. Killin' an old man ain't nothin' to be proud of.”

“Then you understand, correct?”

“What I'm understandin' is that you don't see anything behind those corpo blinders, like a damn show horse.” The venom was back, clear in the way Imani looked at him. Her lips were tightened straight, not smiling or frowning.

“The corporations have provided order,” Goro reassured, and Imani--

Laughed. Laughed so hard she covered her mouth. She shook her head again. “What good is order when the other side is destruction? You don't get it. Not anymore at least. That little boy you used to be, he would.”

“You do not understand,” he muttered.

“I know you think I may be an idiot, but—look. You were picked out of the slums to be turned into a well trained attack dog. I fought for my family, my friends, _our_ safety. Nomad's ain't strangers to wars, either. But no one gets hurt but our stupid asses. Not the whole world. And look at you. Still barking while your master's dead at the end of the leash.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“What are you, underneath all that trainin'? A military man? A bodyguard? Are you just—human, at the end of the day? With thoughts and feelings and needs?”

Goro leaned over the railing, looking down below at the ground levels of Night City. Why she had suddenly become so pointed confused him. But—she was—he shut his thoughts up again. “I am a man of honor. Tradition.”

“And look where that got you. Barely alive, ripped up like an old circuit board.” She paused. “When's the last time you ate?”

“Earlier, thanks to you.”

“Let's sit down and talk about this over a hot meal. I'm bein' brash, but I can't agree to somethin' like this.” Her voice sounded softer, more forgiving, as if she had washed off all the anger.

“The reconnaissance--”

Imani laughed, baffled. “You still want to do it. You are a stubborn thing.”

“It is the only way I can see this through.”

“That's not true, and you know it. Now, c'mon. If you're not hungry, then I sure am. Let's go.”

They settle on a Japanese food stand, and both order ramen. The bowls tasted watered down. Not enough miso, Goro noted. Imani slurps her noodles, chewing thoughtfully.

“I have had better in the barracks.”

“Japan likely prioritizes growing all of these things,” she muttered, taking the napkin given by the man working the stall. “California doesn't. Everything here...it's awful, isn't it?”

“This is your home, V.”

Imani shook her head. “Nope. Born and raised in the Republic of Texas. Nomads move a lot, but I spent most of my time in Austin.”

“What brought you here?”

“My parents dyin'. The clan...we all packed up. Each day, it seemed like we got smaller and smaller. Some people just wanted to go home. Made it out here before the Bakkers merged up with the Snakes.” Imani shook her head, and picked up her bowl to slurp the broth. “I keep talkin' about myself. I didn't even ask how you were. Sleep well?”

“I am fine. You didn't inform me that the hotel you suggested was a love hotel.”

Imani shrugged. “Cheapest place I could think of. Nightly rate's one of the best.”

“Have you been there before?” Goro asked, tilting his head.

Now Imani raised her eyebrows. “You've think you've got me, but I have no shame about enjoying some time there.” She leaned forward, closer to Goro, her shirt shifting open more. “You'd sleep better staying with me.”

Goro didn't take his eyes off of her. She was still as open as she was from before the question. The flirting, he guessed, was in earnest. “I still find that unwise. You will make yourself a target. Why are you so concerned about me?”

“Remember when I told you--'I don't relish in your pain'?”

“Yes.”

Imani put her bowl on the table, placing her chopsticks over the opening. “And I thought we were at least allies. If not friends.”

“We are.”

“Anyway, you've lucked out,” she said with a smirk.“I'm already a fuckin' target.”

“You will not let this go.”

“You're the one who wants to jump into Hanako Arasaka's float to tell her who really killed her dad,” she added, sounding astounded. “You do realize, that sounds very much so like a comic book plot. And usually it doesn't work in those, either. Something happens. And all goes to hell.”

“What do you suggest?”

Now she really smiled. An honest smile, teeth barely showing. “Forget all of this. Revenge—dig two graves, yeah? I can see in your eyes you're itching to be in that grave. But I'm not gonna let ya.”

“I cannot forget my duty—my homeland.”

“I'm not asking you to. The only way back home—whether that's the arms of Arasaka or the ones of Japan--is to prove something that hinges on me. And I'm deteriorating fast. Not to mention I got the engram of Arasaka's Most Wanted in my body. They'd never trust me, probably think I'm Johnny's puppet. So—I'm sorry. Home might not be an option, for now. But what you're gonna try and do--this float business--you'll die here.”

“There is a chance--”

“When have you _ever_ been one for chances, Goro?” Her face flashed irritation, yet again.”Be honest with me.”

“I took a chance on you.”

“You thought I was the killer. An open and shut case. Turned out more complex than that. Should have left me to rot in that damn landfill.”

Goro sighed. “You have not provided me a solution for our concerns.”

“Stay with me. And once I get everything in order, we run away together.”

“...what?” She did not present this as if she was a viable option at all. What would that even look like? The landscape of her world was hellish, littered with trash and corpses.

Imani laughed, but her face didn't change. “You heard me. Don't say you haven't considered it. Aren't you envious of the nomads? How they can fly free from the constraints of this world?”

“Yes,” he relented. “When I was a youth, I would daydream of leaving all of this behind. Nomads carved their own paths. Relied on each other. Something I have found little of, in my line of work.”

“It's not all family bonding hour,” Imani said, shaking her head. “Lots of hard work. Hungry days. Getting shafted by everyone, down to your last eddies. But the family does help—we protect each other.”

“But we would not be nomads. It would be just—us two.”

Imani shook her head. “Talked to Panam and Saul. Asked if I could run out with them. I have lots of good traits, and so do you.”

“That, to me, seems as difficult as my plan. And if the Relic kills you...what about—when you pass?”

“Nomads bury deep so the dead are worm food, not coyote food. Put some rocks on 'em, too.”

“But, the investi-”

“You're still on with the proof. I already told you, no one will believe me. Unless Arasaka made himself an engram. And even then he might just tell me to fuck off.”

“Why are you even putting this--”

“This town's taken away what we had. On the same page, right? So,” and she perked up just slightly. “Let's make a run for it and never look back. Somewhere that's not either of our homes. And we'll make a new one, for a while.”

“And you expect me to agree?”

“I've given you time. Will take me a few days, to get everything together. A few more jobs, saying goodbye. Paid rent for the year, so all set there. You'll stay with me in the meantime. After that ends, I'm gone either way. You can leave me to die in the desert. You can come back with my testimony one day, get yourself back in the good graces of the corpos. Or you can make a run for it. California's a big place. Might be able to get a fake passport and sneak your way into Canada. From there, you can make your way home, and hope Oda has forgotten your face.”

Goro took a sip of his broth. The only tolerable thing was noodles. “I will consider it,” he assured, pulling up another bunch of noodles to slurp.

Imani smiled. “At the very least, you can look at me more with those pretty eyes of yours.”

Goro choked, swallowing hard on the mouthful he had. He tried to project disgruntled at her, but she smiled as if she had figured out a secret.


	7. the Car Ride

“Are you afraid?”

Imani was driving when Goro asked. She was right, her car was painfully simplistic. She clearly spent her money elsewhere. What little he had, he packed and had shoved into her backseat. She drove too fast, tight around corners as if she was racing.

“Afraid of what,” she questioned.

“Death.”

“It's inevitable. We all die, in various ways. Born to do it. We can try and cheat it, but it will happen. Are you?”

“I do not think so. I wanted...an honorable death.”

“Dyin' while facing off with Arasaka isn't that honorable, Goro. The honorable thing would have been to point out the obvious. I can tell you didn't want to get destroyed by Adam Smasher, however, so that's likely why you played along with Yorinobu. But, hey, not my life.”

Goro cut his eyes at her. “I do not understand why you are telling me to let this go.”

“Goro,” she sighed. “What is it to Arasaka-sama now?”

“What?”

“You avengin' him will not bring him back. And given how I believe he's a smart man, he likely lives on in some way. You're gonna bring back up a war and internal struggle—but what does that matter? Is your life worth it? Being a lackey for people who bought you, and now sold you?”

“They are the reason I am the man I am today.”

“No. _Saburo_ _Arasaka_ was the reason you're the man you are today. Your debt has been paid being his servant for so long. Yes, you were paid, but your mind was never free. You were _eternally_ his. And now since he's gone, you have nothin' left.”

“You know, Imani. You are right. We both lost someone important in Konpeki Plaza.”

Imani nodded, lips tight. “Yes. Glad you see it my way.”

They are quiet for long time, Imani making a few more turns before pulling into a garage. She drove up the ramps, finally parking on the fourth level.

“Is this connected to your apartment?”

“Yes. Why would we be in here if it wasn't?”

Goro said nothing as Imani put the car in park, turning off the engine and getting out. He felt...ashamed. Like he shouldn't do this, but she made more good points than bad. It was no longer his fight. Suddenly, the passenger door opened, and Imani bent down to look at him, incredulous.

“You gonna stay in there for a while? You can sleep in the car, but I wouldn't suggest it.”

\--

Imani was still in her 'office' when Goro came out of the bathroom, freshly dried and dressed in his pajamas. Saburo insisted on him wearing proper pajamas, which he found excessive. However, after it became his 'dress code', he got adjusted to it.

He walked over to the open office door, finding Imani surrounded by ratchets and screws. Her legs were bare, only a few centimeters covered by her shorts, and he tried not to notice that she clearly wasn't wearing a bra under her tank top. “Repairing a weapon?”

“Doesn't shoot as straight as it should. Trying to get it back on track, but it might be a lost cause.”

Goro took a look around the area. Shelves of loose barrels, stocks, and handles. Photos and stickers stuck into the walls. One seemed to have a much younger version of Imani with two adults and another young girl. Goro imagined they were her family. It would be hard to imagine her being so—youthful. He wondered what she was before she came here, before Night City closed her heart.

He was suddenly unsure why he was concerned about her heart.

Goro shook his head, before finally speaking. “You seem to work in here a lot.”

“I take good care of my weapons. Pops taught me all about guns. He used to--” and she laughed. “Talkin' about myself again.”

“I like it. I feel I—do not have much to share about myself.”

“Not surprising. I imagine military men in Japan are a little more—intense than over here.”

“It depends on the man.”

Imani finally looked up at him. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Arasaka-sama's insistence.”

“Particular, to be honest.”

“How so?”

Imani barked a laugh, and shook her head. “Don't mind me. They're nice.”

Goro leaned against the door jam. “You flatter me.”

“Just bein' honest,” she shrugged. “Good to see you're acceptin' compliments now.”

“I feel I would be receiving them anyway.”

“Not true. I'm happy to stop. I'm always tossin' them out. Just in case you feel special,” she said with a smile. “Just—let me know, and I'll keep my trap shut for a change. _Mi casa es su casa--y todos._ ”

Goro didn't respond, crossing his arms as he watched Imani turn in her chair to the corner of the room, gathering up her tools to put them back into her organized box.

“I'm gonna get some sleep. Couch is yours. Unless you wanna cuddle,” she said slyly.

“The couch will be acceptable.”

“Alright. Forgive me if I talk in my sleep. Johnny keeps me busy sometimes,” she added, tapping her head.

“I will make note of that.”

Imani stood up and Goro moved aside, watching her close the door with her thumbprint. She turned around without regarding him, trying his best not to watch her hips sway.


End file.
